A fashion clueless struggling in Paris. The world is attracted to the light of this city,and me to the history, but the shadow beneath her reveals herself to you eventually. The Parisians are forged thus so attractive is their culture. Why ‘the third red apple?’ A hint maybe in the page available in English and French.

Friday, 9 December 2016

The true horror stories in Paris-Part 8

Leila immediately started badmouthing her
French landlord lady as if she knew her personally. The fact that I was an Asian seemed to have
relaxed her attitude. She casually threw
into the conversation that she had many international friends, a lot of them
black people. Well, I had seen it before, a
white person posing to be humanitarian by surrounding herself/himself with the
minorities. A lot of them truly are so,
but there have been cases where their motives were to numb the pain of rejection
by their own peers. The latter would try
establish their superiority over the weak and in Leila’s case, she had already driven
out Mr. A, my previous resident who was aged and weaken.

I mentioned in my last post that violence
is not the only mean to hurt people in Paris.
It goes without saying that the infrastructure of the buildings here is
ancient, but still the outside walls are usually built with solid rock or sand
stones. However, due to rapidly
increasing demand for accommodation, the apartments were divided into smaller
segments, partitioning with flimsy walls.
The noise that travels through the thin indoor walls is incredibly disturbing. Thus it is crucial that all residents observe
the social decorum of keeping the noise down after 22:00. All electrical appliances must stop before it. It is anti-social and even deemed crass to
wash on Sundays in Paris because of the infrastructure.

When Mr. A first heard the washing machine
going after 22:00 upstairs, he hoped it was one of thing. But then it continued all week and then on
Saturday. He could not believe it, but
still Mr. A. expected Leila to refrain from washing on Sunday. No such luck he was woken by the tumbling
vibration. By this time his sleeping
pattern had been disrupted and he was starting to feel sick. He plucked up his courage to knock on Leila’s door.

Mr. A. retained politeness and made a note
of mentioning to her that no washing on Sunday was norm among the Parisians who
lived in the building within the respectable Marais district. His voice was soft by nature, so any women
would feel compelled to oblige. Leila
smiled but offered no apology. Still, M.
A. expected that his trouble was over. Little
did he know it was just beginning. To be
continued.